Unbroken
by SuperPaige
Summary: Sequel to Breakdown. After a complete meltdown, the two Sayian find themselves trapped in a world of hurt and anguish. Can they help each other, or will they remain broken?
1. Mornings

**Description- After a brutal breakdown that nearly broke two strong Sayians, the only emotion they seem to be feeling is a bitter numbness. Vegeta can feel his control slipping beneath his fingertips, he doesn't feel like he can survive another lonely night. He watches Bulma with a careful eye, as she continues on with the man she had left him for. Goku is dealing with the sudden and heart-wrenching lost of his oldest son. His breakdown had been bad, but the aftermath seems worse. Too much pain for the usual carefree man. Feelings are tense between the two Sayians, but it may seem that they may be all they have left, to fix what each has broken…**

**~WARNINGS~ Lots and lots of swearing. Sexual stuff. Rape, violence and gore. Oh, and this is a sequel to my story Breakdown. So if you haven't read it, and don't want to be confused as fuck, I suggest you go and read it. Thanks!**

**MORNINGS…**** /One month after Breakdown story.**

A strong September gust charged against the windowpane, causing it groan and creak in protest. Rain pitter-pattered on the roof as thunder boomed and lightning flashed. The sky was dark and gray like cement, any sunlight forced behind thick curtains of clouds. It was dreary and threatening day, forbidding access into the outside world.

Though he tried, he couldn't sleep through the raucous storm and had to wake up. Vegeta pushed the quilts aside, feeling a rush of cold air blow pass him. He shivered and tried his best to ignore it. _Damn woman doesn't know how to heat a house, _he thought bitterly as he left the warm mattress. His bare feet touched the ice-cold floor as he shuffled across the room, and left, slamming the door behind him.

The smell of bacon and eggs wafted from downstairs, but the prince didn't have the stomach to eat. He felt like he could throw up anything he consumed. It made him nauseous just smelling it.

He shuffled into the bathroom, cursing once more that there was no lock on it, depleting his chances of privacy. With a sigh, he stood at the toilet and relieved himself. odd enough, he could see his reflection from where he stood.

Reflected back at him was a familiar, yet strange man. Black hair that usually stood up matted down from eight hours of sleep. It hung to his shoulder, and in his black, ebony eyes. It didn't stick down, but rather spiked out in soft tuffs. It was so long, after many years of growing it. Down to his shoulder blades. Strands of gray were almost hidden amongst the thick black follicles.

The black eyes he had inherited from his father, his real father, were drawn of energy, lined with stress. He closed his eyelids, watched his long eyelashes flutter, then slowly drew them open. Lines of red ran from the corneas to the irises. Bags of exhaustion hung below them. Stubble clung to his chin and upper lip, but he knew he wasn't going to shave it. That would mean using energy he didn't feel he had anymore. _You look pathetic, _his inner voice growled, of which sounded like his father. The King. It was clearly made to offend him, but had no effect. The prince just finished and left the bathroom.

Somehow, he managed to force himself down the steps, and into the kitchen. Chichi was bustling around, cooking eggs and bacon, squeezing oranges and searching for a lost shoe. "Damn it, Goten! How did you manage to lose it? _AGAIN?!_" She scolded, as she flipped over an egg and squished an orange into a juicer.

"I dunno, Mom. It just kinda happened." He paused slightly when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was Vegeta. "Hey, Uncle Veggie! Can you help us find my lost shoe? It's my left one. I last sawed it yesterday when I came up from school. I took it off in the kitchen cuz I was lookin' for a snack. It's brown with a black heel."

"Shut up, brat," he mumbled, rubbing his temples. "Didn't your mother specifically tell you to take your shoes off by the door when you come home? Is it that hard to follow the rules?"

"But I-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You're going to be late for school. Get up and go."

"But my shoe-!"

"You should've thought of that before losing it, brat. Get lost. And when you come home, I better see that shoe at the door before coming two inches into this damn house. Understand?" He glared down at the Kakarott clone, crossing his arms in that old-fashioned stance he had.

Goten mumbled something and dragged his feet out the door, closing it gently behind him. Silence followed like a blissful rainbow after a raucous storm.

A hand enclosed over his shoulder, and he swiftly turned to face the brunette. "Don't touch me." He stepped back from her.

"Um. Sorry. I just wanted to say…thanks. For helping me." She nervously twisted her fingers together. "He never listens to me. Only one who could make him obey was Goku and Gohan…" Chichi's voice trailed off, and she simply walked into the kitchen, not making another sound.

The prince stuck his hands in his pockets, wondering where to go from there. _Blasted woman. She always makes me think. _"Woman. I suppose by my services, I am paying off my debt for staying here. You do not have to say thank you. I am merely doing my duty," he said solemnly, hands pulled out of his pockets, and folded inside his crossed arms.

All she could reply was a tight, shaky smile. He couldn't muster the energy for that much. An perturbed tension vibrated back and forth from Chichi and the Sayian, an uneasiness feeling that had been there since Vegeta had moved in. It wasn't as if it were uncomfortable, but strange and foreign. Before this, communication between them had been severely limited. He couldn't recall two words he had said before.

With that established, he figured he didn't have any point in staying there. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't in the mood to chat about the weather and annoying children. Actually, a nap sounded fine. Maybe a jump of a cliff. A very high cliff. With spikes at the bottom.

He turned to leave, but Chichi called out. "Vegeta. Bulma called. She wants to know if you're picking up Trunks and Bulla this weekend or not."

Just the mention of her name send a wave of nausea in the pit of his stomach. The room suddenly lurched to the left as he held onto the wall for support. "Tell her I…will see them this weekend."

"Are you alright, hon?"

"Don't call me 'hon'. Yes, I'm fine. Worry about your family, don't stress yourself over me. I can take care of myself." He turned and left, as quickly as possible. Wet tears fell down his cheeks and he didn't want anyone to see his shame. _Damn it! I thought I had gotten over this shit. I'm making a damn fool out of myself…_

* * *

Goku woke just as Vegeta left, feeling his chi depart the area. He jerked up in bed, feeling as if he hadn't slept a wink. _I am so _fucking_ tired_, he thought miserably, shoving the quilts aside angrily. _But I just am not _sleepy_! _He never thought there was a difference before, but now he knew.

Wearily, he ran his hands over his worn, numb face. The bandages roughly rubbed against the skin, as he drew them down from his eyes to the jaw line.

Soft taps knocked on the door, and he jumped slightly. "Who is it?" He nearly whispered in the stillness of the bedroom

"Goku. It's your wife." The voice sounded on the verge of anger, mixed with frustration. He could picture her standing there, arms on her hips.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to get the hell out of there! You can't stay holed up in there for the rest of your life over this-"

_No. No. _In an attempt to block out her voice, he covered his ears. _She doesn't understand._

_ What do you mean? She lost him, too. Stop acting like a damn three year old. _The voice sounded like Vegeta. It had been scolding him relentlessly in the past month, as if trying to talk some sense into him.

_If she understood, she wouldn't be treating me like this-_

_ When you act like a child, you get treated like a child, Kakarott._

"Goku! Have you been listening to me?!" Chichi's voice barged into the whirring thoughts and arguments. "Stop ignoring me!" Her words were breaking, with desperation thick in each word.

"No. Go away!" It exploded from his mouth without really thinking about it. He slammed a chair against the door, and watched it break and splinter apart with a detached regret feeling. _That was my grandfather's favorite chair…_

_ Idiot. See what happens when you don't control yourself? You're going to end up hurting someone so bad, they might just die…Do you want another dead body on your conscious?_

_ "SHUT UP!" _Goku screamed, slamming his bandaged hands against the headboard, feeling the pain shoot up his arms, which induced a much louder yell to spew from his mouth. Blood reddened the white dressings in large round splotches.

Chichi stood outside the door, biting on her sleeve, feeling the hot tears stream down her cheeks. She slid down onto the floor, shoulders shaking with each racking sob. Her ribs hurt with each hiccup. _Oh God…what a mess…_

**~A/N~ Yah! The first chapter of the sequel! I don't know what I'm thinking, writing two stories at once…but I can tough it! Check out my other stories, why don't ya? Vegeta's Memoir and Vegeta's First Christmas (thought it's a little early for that.) Thanks for your reviews on Breakdown, all you loyal followers : )**


	2. False Options

**False Options**

They were his last option, and it failed miserably. Perhaps it wasn't smart to even try, all it did was give false hope, to himself and to Goku. Deep down, he knew it was a wasted effort, but that small glimmer of hope was still there. Now it was demolished and gone forever.

_This is my fault. I should've done something more…I know I could've. He might still be alive if…_ The Namekian shook his head and rubbed his temples. "No." _It isn't my fault, just as it wasn't his fault. Damn…_

Far off, Goku's chi was flaring, but only slightly. Piccolo recognized it as one of his 'turns', and acknowledged it with just a small tad of concern. This new routine of the once gentle Sayian had grown old in the past months, and after the first few bursts, he realized it wasn't anything dangerous, and to leave him alone. Besides, he had more important things to be worried about.

In his green hand, was a small, perfectly round stone. To the untrained eye. To Piccolo, it was much more than that. It was a Dragon Ball, incognito. "You didn't help out too well, did you?" He growled at it. "You were supposed to bring him back. If not for me, then for his father. He's suffering, you know. Torn to pieces-" He dropped the ball, and grunted in pain as his head throbbed in agony.

_~King Kai. I need your help. Answer me, damn it!~_

_ -Oh. Hello, Piccolo. What do you need this time?-_

_ ~You know why I called. This is about Gohan~_

_ -I told you. I can't just bring people back to life all willy-nilly. If he had died from murder or death of any kind of accident, maybe. But this was totally of natural causes, and I really shouldn't interfere with these things.-_

_ ~But this is different. Gohan is a _hero_! Don't you think he deserves a second chance?~_

_ -Perhaps…but this is very risky, Piccolo. I have to think about this seriously and come back to you. In about a week, I should have my answer. Try to keep that damn Sayian from blowing up the planet in the meantime.-_

There was a static-like sound, and King Kai was gone from his mind. Piccolo sighed and looked down at the Earth below the Lookout platform.

"Dende. Stop standing there like I have some disease. I am not losing it, like those two. I was just talking to Kai."

The young God stepped beside him. "Oh…what did he have to say this time?"

"A slight upgrade. He said he has to think about it. Which means we may have a chance of getting at least one of them back to normal."

"Yeah. But Vegeta…"

"I don't know what to do with him. As strange as it may seem, it is easier to raise someone from the dead then to deal with the complexity of love. Especially with those two, and me, who has never really dealt with the emotion, thanks the Gods." The alien clasped Dende's shoulder. "Let's just hope he stays this calm at least until we can get Gohan back."

"Right. One less Sayian to deal with."

"That's one way of putting it." _He wasn't supposed to agree with me so easily…I hope I'm not corrupting the poor kid._

* * *

A lot of the yelling and shouting was coming from Yamcha. Bulma mostly did the screaming and crying. Trunks was pretty sure who made the loud smacks and punches, too.

This night was the same as always. That guy he was supposed to call his 'step dad' came home and found something wrong with the way his mother cooked, cleaned, or if she wasn't doing anything at all. "You bitch, you don't know how to do anything right, do you?" He yelled, and a slap rang out.

At first, Bulma would scream and say she's sorry. But it soon changed, and she just cried while the loud slaps continued.

Then, after he was done with her, he would force his drunken self up the steps and into Trunks' bedroom. The lavender haired boy always felt so helpless at this point, and though he was stronger, he couldn't muster up the energy to push him away.

"Lay down!" He would hiss, and push Trunks down onto the bed, turning the small child on his belly. The smell of alcohol, sweat, anger, and fear surrounded his sensitive half-Sayian nose. All the struggling in the world wouldn't do any good, and he would just cry silent tears until the pain and agony was gone. He had to do it quietly. "Crying will only make it worse," he would growl in his ear from time to time.

Sometimes, Yamcha would fall asleep, still on top of him, still embraced in his suffocating arms. But not all nights, and that's when Trunks was thankful. He would hold his pillow and try to cry into it. Nothing would come out. He was too empty, too dried out. There was nothing left inside of him. Usually, he would put his face against the soft and think the same things. _Daddy, I miss you. Daddy, I love you. Please come back home. _After a repeating this in his mind a hundred or so times, he was able to sleep, and live through the same nightmares every night.

And in the mornings, there would be blood and white stains on the dark sheets. At first, they scared Trunks to death. But then he began to regard them emotionlessly, as each day he grew more and more numb.

* * *

Bulla came downstairs the next morning, to find her brother sitting in front of the TV. Nothing was on except for fuzzy loud static. He didn't seem to notice, nor care.

"Hi, Trunks. Are you alright?" She asked timidly, pulling herself onto the couch beside her. He looked incredibly pale, excluding the dark rings under his eyes.

"Hnh," he grunted, and at that moment, sounded just like their father. And she really missed him just as bad as that moment he moved out.

"Today's Friday, Trunks. That means we can go see Daddy. Won't that be fun?"

"I guess." His voice was raspy and dull.

She bit her lip, and tried to keep the tears from coming. "Maybe…maybe we can tell him?"

"No." It was a warning, pure anger within each letter.

"Okay." She nodded and watched the static as well, attempting to keep her mind void of all thought horrible. At that time, it seemed nearly impossible.

_I hate it! I want Daddy to come back! How could Mommy love this guy? He's so cruel…I wanna go away. Take my big brother with me. Where no one will ever hurt us ever again. I would get Daddy to come with us. Cuz we don't need nobody else._ Oh, she wished she could tell Trunks her dream and wishes. But she knew they were just that; dreams and wishes. Futile and not even worth the effort of explaining them, so why bother trying to execute the idea?

Bulma walked into the room at that moment, and saw her two children sitting on the couch. Her heart wrenched, but she was filled with guilt. She didn't want to say anything, though. Not to anyone. The last thing she wanted was for that insane ex-husband of hers to come flying in here and causing a raucous. As much as she was beginning to hate that scar-faced bastard, she didn't want him killed. And she was afraid of him. Of both of them. Either one was capable of killing her with one finger. She was scared. Leaving sounded great, but distant and unrealistic. Like a lost dream. All her mind seemed to be anymore was scrambled thoughts and passing memories.

"Hey, kids," she said in a low whisper. Yamcha was still asleep. She didn't want to wake him just yet. Her face was still screaming with pain. The cut on her cheek had finally scabbed up, despite how deep it was. He wouldn't let her go get stitches. "Did you guys pack up for this weekend?"

"No, Mommy. I'll do it now." Bulla climbed down from the chair like a seventy year old woman, and not a seven year old child.

"Alright. You're such a good girl, honey." She patted the mass of aqua hair and looked at her son, who resembled his father so much, except for the colored hair and lack of scars. _Funny. Both men have scars. Vegeta had a lot of them though. They ran all through his body, even below his waist. When I asked him how he got that particular one, he just grinned and told me not to worry about it. I don't think I want to know._ For a moment, she almost smiled for their first time in five months. But a loud crash sounded from upstairs, and a frown fell in its place. Time to deal with another loud, violent morning.

**~A/N~ Gah! The hardest part of this story was the title! If you can help me come with chapter names, I would hightly appreciate it. :) Thanks a bunch!**


	3. Visitation Rights

**Visitation Rights**

It was his right as a father to be able to see his children every weekend. He probably could've gotten more, but he didn't feel like he was stable enough to have kids around him. His energy levels felt unsteady, and sometimes, he felt like blowing things up, while other times he felt like he could just go and off himself somewhere.

However, he was stubborn and refused to let that blue-haired bitch get the best of him. _I'll be damned if I let her get her own way. _He simply thought every time with a scowl, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists so tight, he could feel muscles creaking with protest.

The door knocker pounded on the wood three times, sending wooden, hollow sounds throughout the inside of the house.

Some crashing. Cursing. Whimpering. Growling-_Wait, that's me_- and the door was finally opened. Yamcha stood in the entry, clad only in faded blue jeans. Heavy stubble clung to his face, hair a horrible mess. "What do you want?"

"My kids. Get out of my face before-"

"Before what? Yell at me then turn away like a coward? With Goku out there, you wouldn't even try it."

Vegeta imagined his fingers tightening around that fucking scrawny neck, squeezing until the bones snapped. Instead, he clenched his fists tighter. "Go. Get. My. Kids. You. Fucker." Every word was a pause, complete with angry growl and fury.

Bulla was at the door suddenly, and jumped into her father's arms. "Daddy!" She dug her head into his chest, clinging onto his shirt. "I missed you."

"Where's your brother?" He asked, wrapping a comforting, protective -_mine_- arm around her.

"He's getting his stuff ready…" She looked over at Yamcha. Quietly, she whispered. "Daddy, I gots some bad stuff to tell you later."

The prince made a barely noticeable nod, and glared up at the other man. "Move away from me, I have nothing more to say to you."

The scar-faced bastard just smirked, leaned against the door frame and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Your wife-I'm sorry-your _ex_-wife, is pretty good in the sack, if ya know what I mean. Then again, you probably don't. You could never satisfy her the way I could." That smile stayed on his face, a menacing disgusting grin, dirtying his face like a stain of grape juice on a white t-shirt.

What was worse than having the man rub the fact that he had the only woman he had ever loved, was that Vegeta knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. No matter how much the Saiyan despised Yamcha, he could never hurt Bulma like that. And then there was Kakarott. _With that optimistic clown, hurting _any_thing is impossible. Hurting or not, he would most likely jump at the chance to protect one of his blasted friends._

"If you think that is supposed to intimidate me-"

"It's not supposed to intimidate you, prince." His eyes narrowed. "It's supposed to _hurt _you."

Vegeta clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on Bulla. A tiny gasp emitted from the little girl, and he loosened his grasp. "Sorry," he whispered to his daughter.

Just then, Trunks came down, dragging his suitcase behind him, his sister's backpack on slung over his shoulder. "Let's go," he mumbled.

_What's gotten into that son of mine? _The lilac haired boy seemed to have lost his old self. What used to be a energetic, mischievous, if not somewhat charming attitude had been replaced by a lethargic, numb almost comatose state. "Trunks? Are you sick?" Vegeta asked, lifting him with his free arm. He frowned when the little boy cringed at his touch.

"No." Simple, yet complicated. _A lie to disguise more lies. _"Can we go now?"

"Yes. Can you still fly."

"I'm too tired. Will you carry me?" Trunks looked up at him with those bright periwinkle colored eyes, so tired and drained from energy. Under his eyes, were dark purple rings of stress and lack of sleep.

_This isn't my son. At least, not any more. The little boy I knew never asked for help of any kind. Even when he was sick, I had to keep him strapped down to keep him from leaving his damn bed. Just what the hell is going on here?_

* * *

As he flew through the sky, he was silent with agonizing and perplexing thoughts. The children stayed in his arms, quiet, in their own world of wonder.

The change in his children was gradual, and wasn't capable of being seen in just the few weeks he had begun to see them. _Was it really? Or were you just too preoccupied with your own problems to care about theirs. Seems more likely to me, Vegeta. _The voice sounded like his father, deep, with a slight growl. The tone he used when the prince was in trouble. _Or maybe you were just denying it? Because you know it's your own fault. If you had treated her better, you'd still be there, Vegeta. Anything happening to them wouldn't be happening right now._

_ No. That's not true. I don't know what is going on._

_ Yes you do. Don't lie. Yamcha. He's doing something to them. You know what it is. After all, you've had plenty of practice with it yourself._

Images and voices swarmed in his head, floated in his eyes. Pain shot through his very being and soul. Insanity was knocking at the door of his mind, when suddenly a song passed beyond the pictures and sounds. A Saiyan tune he had learned from his school days. It was a war song, the true writer never known.

_ "Fighters march, warriors march. Swords unsheathed. Shields held out. I may not come back. If I don't come back, carry me o'er the hills, to my cubs, to my mate, with my soul within my armor, and my blood on my shield."_

"That's a nice song, Daddy. I didn't know you could sing so well," Bulla said, smiling up at her father. "Where did you hear it? It sounds familiar."

Vegeta stirred out of his daze, and peered down at the young girl in his arms. "Hm? Oh, well. I used to sing it to you when you was a cub-I mean, infant." _Was I singing it out loud? How much else had I spoken vocally?_

"What does it mean?" She tightened her grip on his t-shirt as he sharply rose to avoid slamming into a mountain peek he wasn't paying attention to.

"It was written almost two hundred years ago, during a civil war on my home planet. The groups were separated into two clans. Fighters and Warriors. The Warriors were for the king, who was a ruthless man, and the Fighters, or the Rebels, were against him. They were hoping for a better tomorrow. Warriors wanted a more secured today. Despite having the power of chi-manipulating powers at our fingertips, Saiyans still found the art of weaponry sacred. So that is what is meant from the swords and shields. A lot were killed. When one would die, it was customary to carry the armor and shield back to the family of the deceased as proof. It was to be put up in a honorary display, and if it wasn't, their souls would ascend from the armory and haunt them."

"That's neat. How come we never visit your planet, Daddy?"

"Because…it no longer exists." His eyes burned with threatening tears, but he kept them at bay. Thankfully, before any other questions were asked, the Son house came into view, and Vegeta landed in the backyard, heaving both a sigh of relief, and dismay, for the questions may have stopped now, but they would be coming back in only a matter of time.

**~A/N~ ****I would just like to add that the song is truly made up by me. If you would like a full version, I would be glad to write it out and put it on my profile. Just tell me if you wish. One more thing. I'm a little disappointed by my lack of reviews, not just for this story, but for my other ones. C'mon, you lazy minks, you. REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!! But I appreciate the reviews I DO get, so thank you guys!! You rock!!**


	4. Crazy

**Crazy**

Goten barged into the house, feeling two extra chi in the house. Bulla and Trunks. He sighed as he opened the door, throwing his backpack on the nearest chair, and taking his shoes off at the door.

At first, he really enjoyed having his best friend over, and even tolerated his sister, despite her cooties. However, as the weeks went by, he sensed the change in their energy. The lively charge of the Brief children had deformed to a much drearier chi. It matched their father's seemingly grim atmosphere.

"That better be the sound of you hanging up your backpack and jacket on the hook!" His mother called from the kitchen.

"I am, Mom!" He yelled, lifting them up and hanging them up in the closet. The smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted into his nostrils. As he walked into the kitchen, he almost said, _Mom, where's Gohan? He loves chocolate chip! _And then he remembered, and suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore.

"How was school, honey?" Chichi asked, kneeling down to kiss him on the cheek. "Do you have any homework?"

"It was okay. No homework…um, I'm gonna go to my room, now." Quickly, he walked off, suddenly uneasy about his mother's attention. Raising his hand, he wiped his cheek from any yucky kiss residue still there.

* * *

He had stared up at the ceiling for such a long time, that he had the damned thing memorized. Every crack, every stain, every cobweb refusing to come down. There were even some burnt marks from when Gohan was a child, and still learning how to control his chi. _It took him so long…not until Piccolo trained him, really. Hell, he couldn't even properly fly until he was four._

Heaving a sigh, he flipped over on his stomach, and stared at the floor, instead. _How long until you have that memorized, Kakarott? _The voice that sounded like the prince said in that gravelly deep voice.

-_Leave me alone! I don't like you, what makes you think I'd enjoy your fucking voice more?!_

~_Why am I not surprised to find you blaming me? You seem to be beating everyone down for what happened to your son. Even yourself._

-_Shut up! _

~_If you're feeling so goddamn guilty, maybe you _did _kill your son? Maybe not intentionally…at first. Maybe you felt some sort of sick joy watching him suffer…_

Goku covered his face, and screamed louder than he had ever bellowed in his life. Warm blood trickled down his nose, his throat burned, and his lungs ached, but still he screamed. He didn't stop until the voices stilled, and minutes later (but what felt like a millennium to him) they did just that.

Grunting in pain, he wiped away the blood running down his lips, and looked at the dark red liquid in dismay. His stomach lurched, and he could feel the urge to vomit easing up his throat…

Just as Chichi walked by the room, she heard him coughing and choking inside, along with the disturbing sounds of someone being violently sick. She dropped the laundry basket, and put her hand to the wooden door. "Goku? Honey, are you alright?"

No response, the puking had ceased, and only the soft hum of muffled crying reverberated from inside.

She tried the door handle, but it was predictably locked. All Chichi could think of doing was to calmly say, "Goku. Just remember. I love you."

* * *

_~King Kai. Have you come to a conclusion yet?~_

_ -Patience, Piccolo. It hasn't been a full day, yet. I told you to call me in a week, not in a few hours. Now, I have important things to attend to right now. In six more days, I will have your answer. Wait until then next time-_

_ ~Yes, King Kai. Apologies~ _Piccolo left the God's mind, not feeling even a slight bit sorry for disturbing him. To the Namekian, it seemed pretty logical to him that the teen should be brought back. _How often had that damn brat saved this world along with the rest of us. I would be willing to bet that if this was Goku, or the arrogant prince, he'd bring them back in a fucking heartbeat. Ridiculous._

He peered over at Dende talking to Mr. Popo. Their lips moved, hands motioned along with their words, body language speaking. It gave all the information Piccolo needed without having to listen in. _They think I'm going crazy…hell, I can't blame them. I _feel _crazy. When this is all over, I may just go and run away for a while. Or forever. Yes, that sounds better._

"Anyone ever tell you that you spend too much time in your head?" Dende asked, and Piccolo noticed that the young Earth God had came up to him.

"Once or twice. What is it that you want, Dende?"

"Just making sure you're okay, that's all. Mr. Popo is worried…he says you've been talking to yourself a lot recently." The warrior didn't care for the look Dende was giving him. A you-just-might-be-crazy-look. "Um, you aren't, are you?"

"Everyone talk to themselves once in awhile. Given the circumstances, I would say now is a good time to talk to myself. I am very stressed, and I seem to be the only one here with a working brain." The last sentence had more than just a bit of anger in it. He was getting annoyed, both at Dende and Mr. Popo's accusations, and at King Kai for making him suffer like this.

If it were any other time than this, he might have felt guilty about the hurt look in the younger Namekian's look. He might have even apologized. But it wasn't any other time, and he wasn't in the mood for childish games. "Dende, leave. I have some thinking to do. I cannot do it with you inhaling my oxygen."

Dende left, hurt in his eyes and in his steps, if not a little angry, too. Piccolo decided to deal with it later, he had some meditating to do. Or he really would snap and hurt someone, and it won't be just mental pain, either.

* * *

Bulla watched the sun fade down behind the distant buildings, and wondered what her mother was doing at that moment. _Maybe I should be happy that she's getting what she deserves for leaving Daddy, but…I can't. She's my mommy. I hope she isn't getting hurt right now._

In the bed next to hers, was her brother, murmuring and groaning in his sleep. His lilac eyebrows were furrowed together in the middle, obviously distressed about the happenings in his dream. Softly, she petted his arm, then returned her attention to the window.

The last of the sun faded into nothing but soft rays of red, pink, and purple. With her cheek against the pane, she felt the bitter air from outside. Somehow, the hours passed as she sat there, head resting against the glass, face cold as ice.

At one point, she looked over at the bed, and pondered if she could sleep alright. _When I wake up tomorrow….they won't be yellin'. Or screamin'. Trunks will be okay, too. But can I sleep? I might still have those bad dreams…_Bulla decided it was worth a try.

However, as she crawled under the warm blankets, the bedroom door slowly creaked open, and her father shuffled inside. Even with the hall lights as the only source of luminescence, she could see the misery deep within his dark eyes, and in his ever move. It darkened his chi to an almost black smoky cloud.

"Why aren't you sleeping, Bulla?" He asked, sitting beside her on the bed. Strangely enough, she cringed when he attempted to kiss her forehead, but allowed him nonetheless.

"I was watchin' the sunset…" She didn't know how long it had been since the sun had left the sky. Probably hours. "I couldn't sleep after. I have bad dreams, Daddy."

Vegeta sat beside her, and gathered her in his arm, pressing her against his chest. He could feel the distress vibrating off of her in waves, her chi swimming with unspoken fears. "What do you dream about?"

The seven year old didn't want to talk about dream…but she was afraid. _Would he hurt me if I told? Would Daddy think less of us cuz of it? _"Daddy…I gots some bad stuff to say. But I'm afraid." She voiced her worry, and hoped it all wouldn't go to hell.

"Don't be scared. You can tell me." He pressed his face into the mop of blue-green hair that reminded him so much of Bulma. _She even smells like her mother…_

"Um…" She pictured Yamcha, hitting them, threatening them. Slashing her mother with that knife because dinner wasn't done when he came home. Kicking Bulla for not moving out of the way fast enough. And then there was what he does to Trunks on a regular basis…every night. The sounds of whimpering and springs creaking as she laid in bed, crying, wishing she could help, but not knowing how. "Yamcha." Tears fell down her face, before she could stop them, or register that they were about to come.

_That fucking bastard! _Vegeta grinded teeth. His daughter didn't have to say anything. He was pretty sure he knew what she was going to say. _Well, of course you do, Vegeta! You yourself suffered the same thing. About the same age, too. Remember?_ It was that blasted voice again. His father using that scolding I'm-the-adult-you're-the-child-so-obey-me voice. "Bulla. Tell me what he did."

One word came to the young girl's mind. "Abuse," she whispered before falling asleep, point-blank, against his chest.

**~A/N~ Gah! Again with the difficulties with coming up with the name of a chapter!! And yes, I am a mean author with my cruel cliffhangers. Hehehe.**


	5. Anger

**Anger**

Vegeta didn't know how long he sat there, his daughter sleeping on his lap, staring out the window, wondering where that bastard was and when the best time would be to murder him ruthlessly. Absently, he stroked her soft hair, whispering that everything was going to be alright, that she wouldn't get hurt anymore. Not on his watch.

_But just how the hell will I be able to do. Face it, that bastard has too many friends, including Kakarott. They most likely wouldn't believe what I had to say, or what the kids said. If I kill him, we will be shunned from their lives, forced to live alone. I could handle it, but could the kids? Trunks and Goten are so close to one another, and Bulla has her friends in her class._

_ However, if I do the alternative, and just kidnap them, wouldn't I have to live in seclusion, anyways? Killing would seem more satisfying, anyways._

The bedroom door creaked open suddenly, and Chichi tiptoed in, obviously bent on checking in on the children, to make sure they were safe and sound. She let out a small gasp when she noticed the prince sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his daughter. "Vegeta! You startled me!" She whispered, smiling at the rare sight. One thing she had never thought the Saiyan would be, and that was a good father. She was wrong though, and he proved to be quite a great one at that. _Who would've thought such a cruel heartless person could turn into…that. _"She's a gorgeous girl, you should be proud."

He nodded. "She looks like her mother." Carefully, he lifted her onto her pillow, kissed her cheek, and pulled the blankets to her chin. Gingerly, he ran a hand through her soft hair. _If I were to tell anyone, I suppose this woman would listen the best. She's smart, and the most level-headed. _"Woman?"

"Yes?" _If it were anyone else, I wouldn't let him talk to me like that. But I know how stubborn he is, there's no telling him what to do. Not to mention, we really don't know each other that well._

"He hurt my children," he growled through clenched teeth, cupping his hands together to avoid punching the wall in and waking up Bulla.

Chichi stared at the prince with confusion. "Who hurt your children, Vegeta?"

"Yamcha." It seemed like the Saiyan's goal to keep himself from keeping eye contact. He kept staring down at the floor, and that's when Chichi realized the single tear slide down his face, only illuminated by the thin moonlight coming in through the window.

As she leaned over to wipe it away, he flinched, and smacked her hand away. "Don't touch me." _How many damn times do I have to tell these people?! _

"How did you find out about this, Vegeta? Did the kids tell you?" _Why doesn't it surprise me that that moron would do this. I knew Bulma was making a mistake when she left Vegeta for that asshole._

"No, I fucking pulled it out of my ass!" He snapped, rolling his eyes. "Don't ask stupid questions, woman. Please, my patience is thin."

Chichi nodded. "Yes, I understand, Vegeta. Apologies." She offered a thin smile. "Not to get all mushy or anything, but I guess I want to say that I'm flattered that you would tell me this. And that you would trust me."

"You are the most wise out of all those idiots. It has nothing to do with trust, woman. I find it hard to trust any Earthling." _Can they fucking blame me? All the stupid things they seem to get themselves into._

"Well, anyways." She sighed, feeling defeated. "Listen Vegeta. The first thing I think you should do is tell Bulma…if she doesn't already know."

"If she knew, she wouldn't be allowing it."

"Don't be sure. Some women will stay with an abusive husband just for the fact that they think they love them. Other believe they have nowhere else to go. With Bulma, Gods only know."

Vegeta ran a tired hand through his hair thoughtfully. "I suppose. So you're saying I should go talk to her, either way?"

"Yes. Well, I mean, if you're up to it. I know the divorce was hard and all, but-"

The prince stood to his feet, and began to pull on his shoes. "Don't worry about me, just watch the children." He paused at the doorway and looked back at her. "Thank you, wo-Chichi." And he was gone.

* * *

Silently, he paced around the large building, trying to decide on what exactly he was going to say. _It's not like that bastard scares me, but if it proves to be a futile effort, and I am unable to keep my children from him, then…he will continue to hurt them more. I don't want to have to kill the son of a bitch. That part of me is gone, but if it proves to be the only way, there wouldn't be any regrets. I had once thought I couldn't hate anyone more than Freeza. And here I am, dead wrong._

Finally, after an hour or more of harsh thinking and pacing, he forced himself up the few cement steps to the door. He pounded on the wooden door perhaps a bit too hard.

Bulma came to the door, clad only in a silk robe with a hair a mess of blue-green hair. A peculiar black and blue ring circled her left eye, swelling it almost shut. On her right thigh, the end of a long, ugly scar poked out from the end of her robe. "Vegeta?" She whispered, and he didn't care for the scared tone in her voice one bit.

"Bulma. I have some things to tell you. Let me in-"

"No. I'll come out here. I don't want you waking up Yamcha. He can get grumpy when he's woken up…" She plastered on the fakest smile the prince had ever seen, and stepped onto the porch, quietly clicking the door behind her. "What is that you want?" She was still whispering, but she sounded just a tad less scared.

Vegeta couldn't believe just how beautiful she still looked, even bruised and freshly woken from bed. His heart gave a lurch, and he felt like either crying, or putting her against the wall and screwing the life out of her. Or both. "Are kids. Did you know that your bastard of a husband is hitting them?" He always thought it was best to get to the point. He hated beating around the bush.

"Shush!" She put a finger to her lips, and he angrily, without thinking, grabbed her hand and slammed her against the wall.

"Don't tell me to be quiet! I know you know about this shit, you bitch, and you just decide to keep the kids in this sort of misery? How fucking stupid are you?! You know I could easily kill that bastard-"

"No! You don't understand!" She cried, trying to push him away, as tears began to pour from her eyes. "I-I love him, Vegeta! I just can't push him away! Be-Besides, maybe I deserve some of it. I can be a better wife, I know. And sometimes the kids can be hard to control. They need a little discipline-"

He couldn't control himself, he brought his hand up and slapped her across her pretty face. Blood immediately fell from her cut lip, and her eyes widened. "You-You hit me!"

"You should be used to it! Besides, you deserve it, remember?!" His voice had risen to a loud yell. "Don't expect to see the kids again, you sadistic bitch!" He slammed her against the wall, and her head smacked against the mailbox. Bulma's eyes rolled in the back of her head, and she went limp in his hands. She had become unconscious.

With a grunt, he dropped her there on the porch and flew off. _Let him hit her, I don't fucking care. As long as my children were safe, that's all that matters. _It was a futile lie. He didn't believe himself for one second. It took all his energy and more to keep himself from going back and making sure she was alright. But he was still capable of going on, and he did just that. He only looked back once.


	6. Fatherhood

**Fatherhood****(One week later…)**

Piccolo opened his eyes to find Mr. Popo and Dende staring at him almost fixedly. _What the hell…? _He stretched out of his meditative pose and stood to his feet. "Can I help you two?" He asked.

They both just grinned, Popo even chuckled. _Is it All Fool's Day because I have the feeling they are up to no good._ "Don't be suspicious, Mr. Piccolo!" Dende said. "It's just that something amazing happened to us earlier this morning?"

"And what would that be?" He materialized a new gi and folded his arms across his chest over the purple top.

Dende grinned even wider, and let out a shrill whistle. A figure stepped out from behind one of the pillars near the entrance to the Palace. At first, Piccolo thought his eyes were deceiving him, then he realized it was real. His grin was as wide as Dende's.

* * *

"What do you mean, Daddy?" Bulla asked over a bowl of Frosted Flakes. _This has to be a dream…this only happens in my dreams. Around this part is when I wake up._

"I mean, you and your brother are staying here with me. You are not going back there." Vegeta wiped the milk that had dribbled down Bulla's chin with a napkin. "I would think you wouldn't have a problem with that."

She looked down at her nearly empty bowl, spooning up pieces of cereal and dropping them back into the white liquid with a loud plop. "It's just that-well, I was hoping you would…" her voice faded out.

_You know what she's talking about. But you left her unconscious on the front porch. Good parenting, genius. Real fucking smooth. _"Bulla. Look at me."

Unwillingly, she lifted her eyes to her father's, bottom lip stuck out in a pout. _I knew this was too good to be true. _

"Things are complicated with your mother and I right now. She doesn't-we don't get along so well anymore. Her and Yamcha are close right now. She wants to be with him more than me. Do you understand?"

"But…" She sniffled. "But I always thought you were one of the good guys, Daddy. Like Uncle Goku. You help the good people from the bad people. Like in the stories you told me about. 'Member? Cell and the Androids and Buu?"

He couldn't think of anything to respond with. Simply because he knew she was right. Ever since he had settled down with that woman, and had Trunks, the will to be that battle-hungry, evil man had mellowed down. Of course there was still the drive to defeat Kakarott, but- _Hell, after awhile, that was just a charade. I didn't want them, any of them, to think I was going soft just because I had a son and wife. Face it, whether you wanted to admit it or not, when you teamed up with them to fight the Androids, you were doomed. _"I am one of the good guys," he whispered out loud, to both himself and his daughter.

"You should help Mommy, cuz no one deserves to be hurt like that. Though I know she hurt you, Daddy. Cuz I heard you cry before, and I never heard you cry."

Vegeta didn't say anything, just tried to keep the scowl from his face. _Kakarott had been the only one to see me cry, and now my blasted daughter did, too. Fuck, I'm getting weak all over._

* * *

Trunks watched his old friend pound on the controller as he tried to fight off his opponent on the video game. Normally, he would ask to play, but he just felt to tired. He enjoyed watching him play, anyways.

"Are you okay?" Goten suddenly asked, looking back. "You sure are quiet. Are you sick? I can get you some soup."

"Nah, that's okay. I'm just tired, is all." He forced a smile to pretend everything was alright.

"You're _always _tired, Trunks. How come you never wanna play anymore?" Goten stood up. "Don't you wanna be my friend anymore?"

The lilac haired boy was put off momentarily. _Why did he chose now to start asking questions in the middle of his game? _"It's nothing, Goat-"

"No!" He yelled. "No, it's not! You talk in your sleep, Trunks! You talk aloud, and I don't think you even notice you do! Your chi is all funny and I can feel the yuckiness in it!" Tears had begun to fall from his eyes, but his cheeks were red with anger.

"I'm just don't feel well, that's all!" Before Trunks knew it, he was crying as well, both sad and angry at his friend for snapping at him. _It's not my fault! Don't yell at me! _He wanted to yell.

"I thought we were friends, Trunks! Why don't you wanna talk to me about this stuff? I won't tell, I promise! Just go back to normal. Please!" His voice had risen to a near pleading tone.

Trunks shook his head violently, lilac hair swishing around. "No, I _can't_! You don't understand, you wouldn't understand, Goten!"

"Yes I would, Trunks! I don't wanna lose you! I already lost Gohan!" He shouted, and without thinking, embraced the older boy. "If you're sick, I wanna know! I don't want you to die!"

"I'm sorry, Goten," Trunks sobbed, hugging him back. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry. I will tell you, but…you gotta promise not to tell anyone. Ever!"

"It's too late. I already know," a familiar voice said from behind. They span around to face Vegeta, eyes widened, both a little embarrassed.

"Dad?" His son looked up at him with wide, lavender eyes, and the father felt just a bit guilty.

_If I had been a better father and husband, I wouldn't be looking into those tired, worn eyes right now._ "Come with me, son. I-I have some things I would like to talk with you about." Vegeta turned his black eyes down to the miniature Kakarott. "Apologies, boy."

"It's fine. I'm used to it," Goten said miserably, eyes downcast on the carpet. _Dad never talks to _any_one anymore. And Mom is too busy to pay attention. Maybe all they cared about was Gohan._

The prince knelt before the seven year old boy, and lifted his chin up with a finger. "Listen brat. There is no use in pouting. It will just make you feel worse. I thought I taught you more than that? If you want something, don't hesitate to go for it. Demand more attention." He straightened up and patted Goten's head. "Trunks, let's go."

They left the bedroom, and headed to Vegeta's room, which used to be more of a storage closet than anything. The walls were lined with boxes of forgotten items, Christmas decorations (there was even a tree in a corner), and old things. Sometimes he wondered if any of Gohan's things were around him, and he would get a slight chill.

He picked up his child and sat him on the bed. A frown darkened his face when he realized that Trunks was trembling, eyes wide in fear. _You know that look, Vegeta. He's been hurt, and it wasn't just abuse. You know what he's been through. What Yamcha has been doing to him. I bet you can't wait to feel his blood on his hands._

_No. I don't do that anymore. Like Bulla said. I'm one of the good guys._

_Yes. And the good guys save the people from bad guys. Isn't Yamcha technically a bad guy, hurting people? Good people? Good, defenseless people? Good defenseless children and one woman. All three of whom you love dearly?_

"Trunks," he started softly, as he sat beside him. "I know what Yamcha has been doing. It is okay, he won't hurt you anymore. I just need to…confirm my suspicions. Has Yamcha been-" he paused and took in a deep breath. "Did he rape you?" He finished in what he hoped was a comforting

With a heavy heart, he watched as his son lowered his head, lilac hair falling past his ears and swishing near his nose. With a small, nearly unseen movement of his head, the eight year old boy nodded. And before he knew it, he was crying all over again, clinging to his father's shirt, sobbing.

Vegeta held him tight, and tried to hold in his own tears. "Son. If I-if I were to go and…make it so that he never hurts anyone ever again, would you think of me as a monster?"

"No. Kill him." It was muffled against his father's shirt, filled with sobs, but the prince heard it all the same.

"Shush now, boy. You need some sleep." He held him against his chest, and willed the young boy to rest. Soon, the room was quiet except for Trunks' soft breathing. For once in five months, he was finally able to sleep, without the fear of someone waiting to come in and tear it apart. And Vegeta fell asleep with him.

* * *

Outside the guest bedroom where Goku was holed up, where the sounds of things shattering, of someone speaking softly to himself, Goten was pacing around, wondering what to say, what to do. With a sigh, he went to the window on the far end of the hall and looked outside.

The sun was setting behind the wide forest surrounding their modest sized cabin. As the leaves on the trees danced in the wind, the red and gold light shining upon them shook as well, waltzing with the branches and leaves. Upon opening the window, a cool, relaxing breeze drifted inside, lazily lifting up the curtains and Goten's thick black spikes, twirling them around like a slow spinning baton.

It slightly uplifted the young boy's spirits, as he inhaled the fresh air. Something his mother once said came to mind. _"My dad used to say that if you fake a smile, even half of one, it will make you want to smile. And smiling just plain out makes you feel happier."_ So Goten forced a smile on his face, and almost instantly, a real grin came. _Mom's a genius! _

With a deep breath, he ran back to his father's room, and knocked on the locked door. "Dad?" He started out, but didn't get a reply. "Dad!" He yelled, and knocked much louder. A low murmur he didn't quite make out. "DAD!" He shouted, and felt the slight muscle spasm that came with the ascension of the Super Saiyan. Without waiting for a reply, he kicked down the door and flew in.

Goku snapped to attention, sitting up in the bed he had been laying in. His son nearly gasped when he saw him. Goku's eyes were darkened with depression, lack of sleep and energy. There were bags under his eyes, and worry lines across his forehead. The hair that was usually a large mass of spikes was matted down from lack of showering. His skin was incredibly pale, almost sickly.

The seven year old boy lowered his energy to normal level, felt the spasm once again, and jumped on his father. "Dad, I missed you so much. You're always in this room, and it's scary without you and I don't wanna be without a dad like Trunks cuz he don't live with his dad anymore and Mom is always crying cuz she misses you too, and you scare her and I don't want her to leave and I don't want you to leave so please stop being sad Dad cuz we're sad too but we can be sad together and that way we won't be alone!" Goten looked up at his father with waiting eyes that glistened with threatening tears.

His father looked down at him momentarily, trying to clear his foggy head and to make sure he heard everything alright. "It's okay, Goat. C'mere." He held out his arms, and was relieved when his miniature clone hurried into the embrace. "I really don't know what to say, kiddo, except that I've been a pretty shitty dad." He didn't swear often, but felt any other word wouldn't be strong enough.

"Yeah, you have. But it's okay."

With a laugh, he ruffled the spikes that looked so much like his own. "No, it's not okay. You and your mother don't deserve to be treated like that." Goku sighed. "And you're right, you guys are sad, too. But sadness works better when you got each other."

"Yeah. It does." Goten yawned, suddenly feeling very pooped. All his energy had been used when he ascended, especially because he hadn't eaten very well in the past few days.

"Hey, whaddya say we go talk with your mother and get some ice cr-" He paused when he noticed his son had fallen dead asleep against his chest. With a worn smile of his own, he leaned his head against Goten's and was about to fall asleep himself when there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," he whispered.

The door opened slowly, and a familiar teenage boy walked in. He noticed the sleeping child and smiled. "Hey Dad."

Goku grinned, eyes brightening up. "Hey, Gohan."

**~A/N~ I was originally going to save this reunion for the very end of the story, but it kinda just happened. I still have ways of keeping it going, though. With Vegeta and Goku ^-^**


	7. Kill Him

**Kill Him**

_She's right. I married the wench, and though it may say different on a piece of paper, she is still my mate. And when has something as futile as a piece of paper stopped the Prince of Saiyans?_

It was a drafty morning, gray clouds promising a heavy autumn rain. He may have grown used to the strange weather patterns of Earth, but some of it still annoyed him. Mostly it was the fall season, when it was chilly, but not cold. Therefore, it brought the hellish, bone-chilling rain that soaked him through. Yes, it was the rain. The spring rains, he could put up with, for it was warm and made those strange rainbow patterns in the sky when the sun was shining. He even enjoyed the snow, beautiful, pure, and foreign. But he absolutely hated that damned fall rain with its heavy winds, ugly bare trees, and gray cement sky.

Begrudgingly, he flew through the heavy clouds, against the high winds, and kept his jacket zipped up tightly. Even still, he had to fight to keep his jaw from chattering like one of those novelty toys with that large teeth and wind up key.

_How many more days until spring? Or at least winter? _He thought glumly, and mentally counted. Then cursed loudly, in both English and Saiyan.

His thought whirred back to his children, both asleep in Chichi's-well, his too, he supposed-home. They were sleeping when he left, anyways. He hoped they were doing well, sleeping fine, not causing trouble, and that he wasn't going crazy. _Three out of four isn't bad. _He sighed as Capsule Corp. came into view. _Damn. I am not ready for this. If I see that bastard, I don't know if I can control myself._

_ "No. Kill him," _his son had said the night before, and the small fragment of a sentence jerked his stomach around. His worst fear was that Trunks would be like him, turn out to be like him…heartless, hostile, a murderer…The last thing he wanted to do was to kill Yamcha. _I hate him with almost every fiber of my being, but I don't want my kids to see me as-as I used to be. To give them a bad example, that violence is the answer._ "Fuck," he whispered aloud, as he landed in the large, enclosed yard.

Bulma was sitting on a lawn chair, reading a book. It looked almost unsuspicious to the untrained eye, but the prince saw more. Her delicate hands shook, sapphire blue eyes glittered with unshed tears. She hadn't even noticed the man standing in front of her.

Slowly, he approached her, cupped a cheek, and brushed a finger across her lips. The way she recoiled, it was if he slapped her. "Vegeta! Wh-what are you doing here?" She cried hoarsely, jumping out of the chair and stepping back.

_I only make things worse when I…when I hit her last time. Fuck. _"Wom-I mean, Bulma. Please. We have to talk," it was a different tone, softer and more gentle. When she didn't reply, just crossed her arms in a protective stance, eyes downcast, Vegeta felt like shaking her again, but resisted. "I want to…to help you. If I can, anyway I can, I will." He hated the way he sounded weak, but he felt like it was the only way to calm her the hell down. _Am I even sure she deserves this, though? Hell, I'm only doing most of this for Bulla. _He was getting sick of lying to himself.

"I don't need help, Vegeta. I'm fine here," she waved her hands around the yard, as if to prove her point.

He caught one of the wrists, and yanked her close to him. She shivered and stared at him with a terrified gaze. "If you're doing so fine, then why are you afraid of me?" He growled. If it was one thing that always amazed the prince, was that Bulma was never afraid of him, never showed any fear. She was a stubborn creature, strong and beautiful. That was why he was attracted to her, and eventually fell in love. And he knew that woman was under this weak shell somewhere.

"Because you hit me! You left me unconscious on the damned porch!" She screamed, and a slap was bestowed upon his left cheek.

"Woman-" his words were cut off as the sound of a slammed door reverberated through the air.

"Bulma! What the hell is going on out here?! I'm trying to watch the fucking ball game!" Yamcha yelled as he stormed down the steps. "Vegeta? Don't you have somewhere else to be, like burning in hell?"

Vegeta released the blue-haired woman, and faced the scar-faced bastard. "Don't you have somewhere to be, like prison for being a sick pedophile?" He hissed, balling his fists together. In his stomach, a sphere of heat was building up. In the very back of his mind, a voice kept saying, in a small, terrified voice, _You're losing control, you're losing control! Patience! Is it worth it? _

The ex-thief just smirked, and wrapped an arm around Bulma, who winced in return. "Like you care what happens to your kid? He probably like it. You should hear him scream. Louder than Bulma," and he laughed.

The sphere exploded as a snarl left his lips. A muscle spasm went through his body, the familiar golden aura surrounded him, and he lunged at Yamcha.

However, only a punch (forceful and relieving) landed in his stomach before he was pulled away, growling and roaring with anger. Everything was red, and all he could think of was, _kill that bastard, kill that bastard, kill that bastard!_

"Vegeta! What's gotten into you!?" A voice shouted, one Vegeta recognized. The thoughts lowered a smidge more just to the point where he was capable of speech.

"Kakarott. He hurt my children. He has to die," was all he could manage, struggling from the strong grasp.

"What? What do you mean, he hurt them?" Goku turned his eyes to Yamcha. "What is he talking about?"

"I don't know, he's fucking crazy, man. Get 'em outta here before he hurts my Bulma," he said, pulling the heiress closer.

"_Your _Bulma?" Vegeta hissed and made another desperate pull against the younger Saiyan, but was pushed back.

Goku looked from the scar-faced man to Bulma. "Bulma? What's going on?" He said, confused. _He doesn't feel like Yamcha anymore. His chi, it's all funny, dark and…evil. What's gotten into him? Have I been so out of it that I didn't notice this change?_

"He's a sick bastard!" The prince screamed, and made another futile, only to be shoved back once more.

"Nothing, I-I don't know," she whispered.

"Bulma…? Why do I feel like you're lying to me?" Goku looked down at the wild Super Saiyan, saw his hateful eyes, and knew Vegeta wasn't the one who was crazy. He was merely defending what was rightfully his, in that feral Saiyan way. "Well, if there isn't anything going on, I guess I can leave you three alone. After all, I'm sure you guys can handle it."

"Are you nuts?! That maniac will rip me to sheds!" Yamcha shouted, and Goku smiled.

"Oh yeah? Why just you? Did you do something to make him mad?"

"I dunno why, except he's a fucking nut! C'mon, Goku! How long have we been friends? You don't trust your old friend?"

"You aren't Yamcha anymore," Goku whispered, and once again, looked down at Vegeta. "Promise me you won't hurt Bulma?"

The only response was a harsh growl and a slight nod, blonde hair swaying the frenzied wind. Letting one hand go of the prince, the younger Saiyan put two fingers to his forehead, and teleported away. _Vegeta will tell me when he's done. And if it wasn't a just cause reason, then oh well. It's officially not my problem._

Vegeta watched the disappearing figure momentarily, with the shock of a wild animal, then turned his blood-hungry eyes back on the scar-faced bastard with a near-psychotic smirk on his face.

* * *

It was the smell of burning flesh that brought him back to reality. He awoke to find himself on the grass, sitting with blood stains on his clothing, soaking through his jeans and white t-shirt. It dripped down his face, off his hands, and stung at the cuts on his cheeks. The rain that he hated so much was rinsing off the guts, putrid and horrid to the feel, off his skin. Though cold and despicable, he enjoyed the way it felt.

What was left of a corpse laid in his lap, skin peeled and muscles torn open. The ribcage was torn open, and the heart was gripped in his hands, soft and slippery to the touch. He dropped it, and slowly wiped his hand on the grass, as if in a trance.

He wasn't surprised to see that it wasn't the corpse's skin that was making that horrid burnt smell, but his own. His chi, as angry as he was, must've gotten to out of hand and caused a small fire within himself. It didn't hurt that much, so he knew the injuries shouldn't be too bad. He also knew something else. That corpse at his feet was what was left of Yamcha. And he didn't know if he felt sick or relieved.


	8. The Son Family

**The Son Family**

"Okay, Goat, you gotta let go now!" Gohan laughed, trying to wriggle his leg free from his brother's grip.

"No way, Jose. You ain't leavin' ever again, mister!" He said, and clung on extra tighter, to prove his point.

Goku chuckled, and picked up his youngest. "Why don't you go play for a bit while your brother and I have a talk, hm?"

"B-But!"

"He isn't going anywhere. I promise." He ruffled the large mass of hair before letting him and watching him run off into the backyard.

"Dad?" Gohan said delicately, and lifted one of his father's bandaged hands. "Mom told me about…you know. What happened when I died."

Defensively, Goku pulled his hand away. He still couldn't stand being touched sometimes. _How do you know this is real? _A small voice whimpered in the back of his mind. _Just another illusion your fucked up mind made up. _"What do you mean?"

"That you had a nervous breakdown, and tried to…you know. Kill yourself. She told me everything." Gohan smiled shakily.

"To tell the truth, kiddo. I don't remember a lot of it. The only memory I have of that is…" his voice trailed off. When his son died, he savagely beat his hands against the walls of the medical room in the Lookout. He had know what he was doing then, but he kept doing it, because he really did want to die. However, when he woke the next day, everything was a blur. Something else was controlling him. "The only memory I have is when we last talked in your mind," he said.

"Oh."

A cloud of silence settled over them at that moment. Words were robbed from their mouths and nothing could be said. The only sounds were that of the insistent tick-tock of the clock hanging above the fridge, where Goku always had to be the one to change the battery, or change the hour when Daylight Savings came around because he was the tallest. Every time he told Chichi to move it somewhere else, she would say 'Nonsense! It will class with the rest of kitchen! Besides, it isn't like you do anything else around here.' He smiled, thinking of his wife and her protective, angry, loving ways.

"So," Gohan said, breaking the silence. "What was up with Vegeta? I knew that was why you left, I just didn't you expect to come back without him. Felt like he was ready to murder someone."

"Yeah. He was fighting with Yamcha and Bulma about the kids. He was…doing fine when I left. Figured they'll work out themselves."

"Agreed. Best to stay out of that fight, right?"

Goku just nodded, then smiled at his oldest boy. "What do you say we grab the brat and head outside?"

"Dad, it's raining," Gohan replied with a laugh, the realized his brother was outside, causing mayhem in the mud puddles. "Oh Gods, Mom is going to be pissed when he comes inside!"

"Yep!" His father slapped him on the back. "But right now, your mother is away, doesn't even know your back yet, actually. Might as well take advantage of it, right?"

The half-Saiyan grinned. "Beat ya there!"

"No way!"

* * *

Chichi walked inside the house with a sigh as she dropped her jacket and purse on the couch. _It's so silent in here without Goku and the kids. Wonder where they're at. Goku's probably still locked in that room, wasting away. Goten must be sulking in his room with Trunks. Bulla must be sleeping._

She lugged her groceries into the kitchen and set them on the table. As she pulled different foods out and began to put them away, she heard a small, stifled sound. It almost sounded like a giggle, but she just assumed it was a mouse or owl outside. Half way through when the same sound came again, only closer this time. Again, she ignored it. _Going to have to do something about those mice that keep sneaking in here. Maybe a cat, despite my dang allergies. It will be worth it, though, to keep those disgusting vermin out._ Just as she finished, she felt something big and squishy hit her on the back.

"What the-" she turned around to see three familiar men (two men, one boy) standing at the doorway, covered head to toe with mud. And from the looks of the stuff leaking onto the floor, she was guessing one of them had nailed her with a ball of the dirty stuff. However, she wasn't really caring about that. Her eyes were locked on the middle sized child standing between Goku and Goten. "Gohan!" She nearly screamed and launched herself at him, not really caring if the grime touched her or not.

* * *

After a long reunion, and an even longer shower, each member of the Son family sat in the living room, smiling, with a large mug of hot chocolate grasped in their hands. A warm fire burned in the hearth, sending off cascades of warmth and tranquility.

"So, a lot happened when I was gone, huh?" Gohan spoke up, eyes mostly set on his father, who kept trying to gulp the cocoa despite how hot it was.

"Yeah, I guess a lot did happen, but don't blame yourself-"

"I don't."

Chichi smiled at her oldest boy. "Good…so, I guess you heard about what happened with Bulma and Vegeta?"

"You know Dad. He gets all flustered with stuff like that," he replied, grinning at Goku's slightly pink cheeks.

"I guess I don't want to talk behind their backs about this, it's kinda personal." Chichi sighed. "Let's just say that Yamcha isn't the only one with promiscuous behavior."

Gohan looked at her, puzzled. "Wait. Are you saying Vegeta cheated on Bulma? With who? Wow, I never would've thought-"

"No! Not Vegeta, you silly goose! Bulma did! With Yamcha!" She laughed, thinking of the prince ever considering going astray from the heiress.

"Oh," the teenager said, as he felt his face grow hot. _Geez, that's embarrassing! Glad Vegeta wasn't here to hear that!_

His mother put a hand upon his knee, and smiled cheerfully. "But let's not worry about that, 'kay? That's their business. Let's stick to ours. Which may involve some ice cream."

Goten, who had been strangely silent, spoke up. "Yah! But first, why did Uncle Veggie get so mad about Bulma cheating on her test?"

Gohan grinned and ruffled his younger sibling's hair. "Because she copied off of Yamcha and got all her answers wrong."


	9. Uncertainty

**Uncertainty **

Vegeta entered the Son house, after hours (_days?_) of flying, thinking, wondering, feeling. He wasn't sure how he felt under all the turmoil going inside his body Relieved? Angry? Sad? Happy? Some sick combination of it all with confusion mixed in to spice up the batch? All he _did _know was that it had stopped raining, had ceased for quite a long time now, and that tidbit of information was his only source of time.

The house seemed fairly quiet except for the natural creaking of the old house, and some soft murmuring coming from the living room. Slowly, he made his way there, and found Kakarott, softly talking to one of the plants Chichi kept around. It wasn't a rare sight, and it didn't surprise the prince in the least. He has easily captured Goku as one of those nuts who believe talking to plants makes them grow faster. However, what did surprise him was the fact that he was out of that blasted spare room.

"Kakarott. What are you doing out of your dungeon?" He asked, settling on the chair opposite of him. He was suddenly very tired, and didn't think he could hold himself up anymore.

Goku jumped up from his chair and let out a near-girlish squeal. "Vegeta! Holy Hell, where've you been!?"

"Wha-"

"I mean, your kids were _really _worried, I was too. So was Chichi, and then Gohan was after we told him about what was going on, and then a day passed, and then another and then another. Before I knew a week was gone-"

Vegeta promptly clamped a mouth over the younger Saiyans mouth and pushed him back down into the couch. "Slowly…tell me what the hell you are talking about."

He gave the prince a strange look. "Vegeta…you've been gone for two weeks. You didn't expect me to worry, did you? Especially with that whole thing with Yamcha."

Behind his left eye, a blast of pain exploded and he nearly howled from the agony. Weariness hit him once more, and he all but collapsed in the chair. "Gone…for two weeks?" he whispered, in shock. "I know I've been gone for awhile, but two weeks?" _What the fuck happened when I blacked out, anyways? _"Kakarott. My brats. Where are they?"

"Um, well. Bulma came here, crying. Said Yamcha had gone missing-" he paused and gave Vegeta a meaningful glance- "She said she wanted her kids back. Um, well, I let her. Cuz I figured since _he _was gone, they'd be okay-" He was put off by a punch across his face.

"You stupid fucker! What the hell is wrong with you?! She allowed all that abuse, she might as have been the one who ra- who hit them!" The anger was back, but it wasn't anything like that when he attacked Yamcha. His normal fury, which was still pretty bad. "Damn it! She's going to have them filled with a bunch of bullshit, how I'm a bad father, that I am a murderer…" he slammed his fist, this time against the wall. Then, as the spasm twitched under his skin, he turned angry teal eyes to the fellow Saiyan. _Well, admit it, so-called Prince Vegeta. You _are _a murderer. Whose blood were you wiping off your skin those Lord-knows-how-many-days ago? It sure as hell wasn't yours! You killed him, whether you want to admit it or not. And all the Gods know you're a bad father. Look who took eight fucking years to hold his own damn son? Just before you blew yourself up for nothing. _

"Vegeta, I-I'm sorry! I didn't know, I just- I mean. You know how hard it is for me when women cry! They get all doe-eyed, and sappy, and I can't stand it when they're all sad, damn it! I can't help it that I'm a mush!"

Clenching his jaw, he slammed his eyelids down and took in several deep breaths, thinking, _It's not his fault, don't kill him. It's not his fault, don't kill him._ Finally, after a few minutes of meditating, he forced head up to Goku once more, eyes back to their ebony color. "A mush?" he said, with a smirk.

Goku rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess. Heh. But I've seen a mushy side of you, too, ya know! Like when Bulla was born-"

"Shut up, Kakarott."

"You cried like a baby!" He laughed. "Aw, it's a girl, she's so beautiful, she looks like her mother!" He mocked teasingly, and nearly missed a pillow that was launched at him.

Despite his headache, despite his guilt, and despite his anger towards that blasted woman, Vegeta laughed louder than he had in a long, long time. "So. Speaking of children. Did I hear correctly? Gohan has returned?"

"Yep!"

"That explains why you are no longer trapped in that damned room. I thought you were about to become a hermit in there."

Goku ran a hand through his mess of hair. "I wasn't really thinking. I guess I was a real mess, huh?"

"You tried to get Piccolo to kill you. Yeah, you were a mess." Vegeta managed a small grin to let him know he doesn't mean any offence.

"Well, I guess we both lost something that made us a little crazy, huh?" The younger Saiyan said with the classic Son smile.

The prince didn't say anything, just forced another smirk, and tried not to think too much about it. _His lost was found? What about mine? Will I ever find it again? The kid was fucking _dead _and he came back before Bulma. My luck is horrible. I should never play the lottery._

_Oh, you're lucky. With fighting. Just not with love. But that isn't your fault, Veggie ol' pal. Because of what you grew up with._

He hated that voice, but he knew it was right. It was his subconscious, he knew that, but he still hated it. It gave him the thoughts he tried to ignore and tormented him with them. Of course, to add some irony, it sounded like his fucking dad. Someone he always wished was burning in hell where the bastard of a king belonged. "I'm tired as fuck, Kakarott. I need to rest."

"No one is stopping you."

"I can't move."

Goku laughed, left to get a blanket and pillow, came back and handed them to the older Saiyan. "Good night." Vegeta couldn't answer, he was fast asleep.

* * *

The prince forced his way through the pouring rain and pelting sleet, dodging frantic birds and large balls of hail. Blowing back at him were winds of at least one hundred miles an hour, so fast that he had to go Super Saiyan in order to keep from getting blown into space and beyond. _That fucking woman better appreciate this, because I despise this goddamn weather!_ With a shiver, he zipped up his leather jacket tighter and stuffed his freezing hands in his pockets.

When Capsule Corp. came into view, he landed hurriedly on the porch, desperate to get out of the horrid climatic conditions. However, he still was hesitant upon knocking on the door, and thoughts of just leaving came to mind. _Great. I sound like goddamn quitter! Have I let my emotions control me this much in my life? Never before, had the thought of quitting ever entered my mind, even while fighting that damned Buu. So why now? I love her, don't I? Shouldn't I prove it, or at least get the brats back? _With a sigh that nearly sounded like a growl, he knocked on the door.

He didn't expect what came next to happen. In his mind, he had assumed the woman had the kids turned against him. They were going to shun him, glare at him with such hateful eyes, call him a monster, and she would look at him, just as hateful, and tell him to leave, that she doesn't care about him and never will.

Instead of this nightmarish scene, he was greeted by two familiar children launching themselves at him, nearly screaming with delight and relief. "Dad!" They said in unison, hugging him tight.

"Where were you, Daddy?"

"Why was your chi all funny?"

"How come Uncle Goku wouldn't let us see you?"

"Are you mad at us?"

Vegeta nearly broke down and cried right there, so filled with a sense of belonging he could have collapsed. "Calm down, brats. Questions later." He didn't hesitate to step inside the familiar den, inhaling the familiar scents (with the smell of Yamcha now fading), and could almost feel the house breathing a relaxing sigh, finally liberated from the violence and abuse. With a smirk-_mine_- he sat down on a chair-_mine_- that he used to love so much when he still resided here. It faced pictures of his family, Bulma, Bulla, and Trunks (_all mine_).

When a soft hand folded over his, he looked up and saw Bulma looking down at him. "Vegeta. What are you doing here?" She whispered, though she already knew, and he knew that she knew.

Softly, he reached a hand up, dragged a hand through her hair, and brought her head down. He smiled into their kiss at the sounds of their kids going, "Ewww!"


	10. The Briefs Family

**The Briefs Family**

They sat at the table, gulping up breakfast and chattering away. "…and then the kid threw a rock at me, so I punched him an' that's why the teacher got me in trouble an' now I gots to go to detention 'morrow," Trunks said through his pancakes, spreading the crumbs onto the table cloth.

"How hard did you hit him? How many times?"

"Vegeta! Don't encourage him!" Bulma scolded, but had to smile all the same. _Like father, like son. My boys…if I didn't have a daughter, I would be going crazy right now! _"I think it was right of you to defend yourself, but don't you think there was another way to handle it, Trunks?"

"Nah." He forked another piece of sausage into his already filled cheeks and let out a ear splitting burp.

"Manners, boy." Vegeta finished his fourth plate, and rubbed his stomach contentedly. He picked up his, and Bulma's plate and took them to the sink. "Trunks, when you're done eating, wash the dishes."

"What?!" He shouted, spitting out food into his sister's hair, who squealed in response. "It's Bulla's turn! I did 'em yesterday!"

"Yes, but she didn't get a detention." He smiled at his son's grumbling and mumbling. "You have to realize that if you misbehave, you will have to face the consequences eventually." _I sure as hell did._ "Have fun."

Bulla snickered at her brother as she jumped from her chair. "Ha! You got in trouble!" She teased, and ran from her brother's swinging fist, still giggling.

"Get back here! You're the one in trouble now, sis!" He chased her around the table, in-between their father's leg, and into the living room, laughing and shouting, even as something fell and landed on the ground with a shatter.

Bulma sighed and shook her head, leaning on her husband's shoulder. "That therapist did wonders, didn't he?"

"He did." Vegeta wrapped an arm around her slim waist. _I'm more surprised then she is. I didn't think some shrink could possibly cure the damage that bastard did to my son and family. But he did. Perhaps I didn't give him enough credit. _"His nightmares aren't as reoccurring."

"Thank the Gods. Bulla seems to have made quite a progression, too." She nibbled his earlobe, making him shiver in return. "As have we, honey buns."

"For the millionth time, don't call me th-that," he stuttered as she blew in his ear, and then nibbling it again. _Damn horny woman. _

"Well, what should I call you, hm?" she purred before kissing his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck and fingering his hair.

The prince returned the favor, reaching his other around her waist and pulling her close. He urged her mouth open as he dipped his tongue into the warmth, tasting her, feeling her.

"Yuck, gross!" Trunks called as he shielded his eyes. Bulla came to a stop, and spotted her parents as well.

"Aw, I think it's kinda sweet! I'm glad they're back together again, aren't you?" She said, turning from them to her big brother.

"Course you would think it's sweet, you're a dumb girl. And duh! Of course I'm glad they're back. Gods, you ask some stupid questions!" Trunks rolled his eyes, and strolled back to the living room, where there was no Mom and Dad making out. _I'm more than glad…now I don't ever have to worry about Yamcha ever hurting me again cuz I know he'll protect me. In reality and in my dreams. _

There was three knocks on the door, and as Bulla turned to the door, she saw the mail being delivered through the slot on the door. "Mail is here!" She called as she picked it up and ran it to her mother, knowing better not to give it to her daddy, who will just toss it aside.

The heiress hummed as she leafed through the white envelopes, and paused as she came across a familiar address. "Hey! Something from Chichi!"

"I'm not going to another one of her tea parties and that's that," Vegeta grumbled, as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Oh, shut up, Veggie." Bulma ripped open the end, and slid out a small card. Her eyes moved from left to right, lips moving slightly, forming each word. Suddenly, her eyes brightened up! "Wow! I can't believe it!"

"What? Kakarott went into clown school? It's about time." Vegeta chuckled before gulping down a can of beer.

"No! Not that-" she punched him- "You jerk. Chichi and Goku! They're gonna have another baby!" She squealed, jumping up and down. "And they're having a party to celebrate! Oooh! I can't wait to go! Ohhhhh, I wonder what we should get them?! A bib, a crib, a toy? Maybe a diaper bag, they are sooo helpful to have around the house! Oh, and I'll get Mom to cook for them, she can make her banana cream pie-"

Vegeta stood there, watching her run around like a deranged animal, and thought about when she found out she was pregnant with Trunks. She cried for ages. _Hell, who can blame her? I was a cruel, heartless man…that happened to take advantage of a young, somewhat innocent woman. _"You can't buy it anything if you don't know its gender, woman," he pointed out.

"They already know! It's a girl, it's a girl!" She ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, all the while screaming, "Mom! Chichi's pregnant! It's a friggin girl! Can you believe that!?"

Bulla looked curiously up at her father. "Um…Daddy? What's going on with Mom? Did she go crazy?"

"No, Kakarott and his woman are going to have another child." He ruffled her hair.

"Oh. Where do babies come from?"

Vegeta just stared down at her momentarily, cheeks beginning to burn. "Uh, er. Well, they come from…the stork."

"I was hatched from a bird? Is that why I can fly? Cool!" She ran off, clucking like a chicken, shouting to Trunks, "Hey, Trunks! Daddy says we're half-stork!"

The prince couldn't help it, he laughed.


	11. Reunion

**Reunion**

Quickly, he pulled the tin foil off the bowl and dipped his finger in. As he licked off the cookie dough, he heard Chichi yell, "Goku! I see you doing that one more time and I'm chopping off your finger!"

He turned to face his angry wife, and rubbed the back of his head nervously, grinning. "Aw c'mon, Chichi! I was just making sure it was safe to eat!"

"My left foot, you were! Now go to the backyard and set up the tables. The guests should be coming soon." She shooed him away with a wave of her mixing spoon, before returning to her bowl. _Sheesh, that man is worse than the kids, sometimes!_ But a smile was graced upon her lips.

The three Son men put down paper cups, plates, forks and spoons on the picnic tables they had spread out on the large yard grass. "I can't wait till my sister gets here! I'll be like Trunks, with a little sister to look after!" Goten said excitedly, as he set down the last of the forks.

"Yeah…I don't know what I'm gonna do with a girl," Goku said a bit nervously. "I have such a problem understanding them! I can't even figure out your mother."

"Just tell them they're pretty and buy them things. Everything should work out." Gohan laughed, but was cut short by a sharp nudge to his ribs. He turned to see Videl, staring up at him, arms crossed. "Hey!"

"Hmph. You're such a jerk!" She said, punching him again.

Gohan chuckled and gathered his girlfriend in his arms. "Sorry, Vee." He kissed her cheek, and laughed as Goten grimaced.

"Hey! Stop with the PDA and get your butts in here!" Chichi called out. "I have trays to be carried out by three strong gentlemen!"

"I don't know about gentlemen…" Videl mumbled, causing the brunette to laugh, and Gohan to smack his girlfriend's behind warningly.

* * *

"Vegeta, we're gonna be late because you're taking too long!" Bulma yelled up the steps. "Why do you _always _do this?"

"Shut up, woman! I can't figure out this damn tie!" He growled, glaring into the mirror. The prince tightened the black knot, nearly strangling himself.

In the reflection, there was a man with spiky black hair (stress-created gray strands carefully hidden) dressed in a white dress shirt, black trousers, and matching sports coat. He had been warned against wearing all black, for, as his wife said, "You dress like you're going to a funeral, and you'll be sleeping on the couch for a week. Without sex." So he added the white shirt and gloves. "If I saw me for the first time, would I think I'm going to a funeral?" He asked the mirror.

"Daddy, why are you talkin' to yourself?" Bulla asked, climbing up the stool so that her face joined her father's image.

"Because I'm losing it," he grumbled, before picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder. "Let's go before your mother has a conniption."

The princess giggled with glee as her father carried her down the steps, squealing with each bump.

_She's getting heavy, _Vegeta thought. _And getting big…and I'm getting old._ "Happy? Here I am, freshly dress." He put down Bulla beside his wife on the landing.

"Oh, don't you look sexy?" She purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Rawr. I could just eat you up!"

Vegeta smirked, and reached an arm around her waist. "You have a filthy mind, woman."

"Don't pretend you don't like it."

"I never said I didn't."

"Aw, c'mon! Let's go already!" Trunks yelled, pretending to gag at the sight. "You guys are gross, and I'm starving!"

_He won't be saying that when he's older, that's for damn sure. Well, unless he's…let's just hope he isn't._ Vegeta shook the thought away. "Hold on a damn second, brat. We're coming." He patted him on the head on the way out the door.

* * *

Goku shielded the autumn sun from his eyes. "Hey, I think I see them coming!" He called, pointing a finger towards the oncoming copter.

"About time!" Goten complained, rubbing his stomach. "I'm about to die from hungriness!"

"Ya know, Dad," Gohan said, clasping Goku on the shoulder. "We couldn't ask for a more perfect day for this. I mean, for September, this is a pretty damn good day."

"Sure is, kiddo."

The Briefs Family landed in the massive yard, and came out, the children dashing out excitedly, as if they had been trapped for ages.

Goten immediately tackled Trunks, both laughing happily as they rolled in the grass, throwing brotherly punches and kicks.

Bulma and Vegeta came up to Chichi and Goku. "Kakarott."

"Vegeta." They shared a small smile before shaking each other's hands. "Been awhile…about three weeks, right?"

"Give or take." He looked at the brunette's swelled belly. "So. A girl. Heh. Have fun with that hell." He only chuckled when Bulma elbowed him in the ribs. "I have to deal with two of them, and I can already feel my arteries clogging up with the anxiety."

"Oh, shut up, you jerk!" His wife cut in. "Ignore the big brute. We're both really happy for you!" She hugged Chichi tightly, careful to not squish the baby growing inside her.

"So are we, but I think you-know-who is a little concerned about it," Chichi said, and they both laughed as Goku blushed.

And so they went on, with the celebration and the rest of their lives. The sun eventually set, turning the sky a golden, red hue, casting the beautiful light upon the families in the large yard. Where everything was fixed, and unbroken.

**THE END!! **

**~A/N~ Okay, so maybe I made it a little mushy at the end. Haha. Hope you really enjoyed the story! I feel kinda sad now that it's over! I always do when I finish a story. Sniffle.**


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